Don't Cry, Bebe
by BattyCore
Summary: Bebe gets kidnapped, tortured, and killed. Who would do such a thing? For SouthParkFan8's Halloween contest. M for violence? I'm seriously considering re-writing this. /:


_Don't Cry, Bebe_

My eyes slowly fluttered open. It was dark.

I blinked a few times and tried to move my arms. I couldn't.

I lifted my face off of the cold cement floor and tried to shake the hair out of my face. I could hear something moving.

A million things were running through my mind. Where was I? How did I get there? Why was I there? Who put me there? I tried not to panic.

I froze at the sound of a voice. It was low and dark and sinister. "Hello, Bebe," it said.

Finding my confidence, I glared into the dark and spat, "Who the hell are you? Where the hell am I?"

He scoffed. "Even in this terrible position, you're still acting like a bitch."

I was about to bark a reply, but was cut off by a sharp kick to the stomach. I coughed harshly and curled into a ball. I tried to hold myself but my arms were tied behind me.

"What the fuck?" I managed out. My voice was broken and wasn't as strong as I wished because the wind had been knocked out of me.

His footsteps traveled around me in a circle; slow and teasing, taunting me. I was scared. It took a lot to scare me, but I was scared. I felt weak and powerless against this man, but he could never know that.

"You know, Bebe… You could have avoided this," he said. There was such venom in his voice.

Gathering my strength, I un-balled myself and tried to sit up. "I don't even know who you _are_," I said. I'd decided that resisting wouldn't do me any good, but I wasn't about to play nice.

I heard him chuckle. It was a low rumbling, full of spite. "You don't need to," he said, shoving me back to the ground. My hair fell back into my face, but I just left it there.

He leaned down in front of me and brushed my hair behind my ear. His hand was soft, but it felt like ice. "Such a pretty face…" he said.

I felt something sharp sting my cheek and gasped. I flinched as it dragged along my cheek and I started to tremble. Something warm began its way down my face.

"Aww, did that hurt?" he asked. "Maybe I should have brought a sharper knife. Oh well, you can handle it, right?" There was a sick amusement behind his voice. He stood and I wasn't sure where he went.

My eyes darted around in the darkness, trying desperately to figure out where I was, or who _he_ was. It was hopeless. "Who… who are you?" I asked, voice barely a whisper.

I heard him shifting around, and then the distinctive _shhhhhhhikk_ of duct tape. "You talk a lot," he commented, strapping the tape to my mouth. I tried to yell, but my noises were muffled and constrained.

His sharp blade found my cheek again as he grazed it along my face, almost as if he were bored and playing with me. "She was mine, but you were always in the way. She would never let me hold her hand, but you could. She would never let me hold her, but you could. She would never let me cuddle her, but you could. She would never let me stay the night, but you could. You were always in the way…"

What was he talking about? Who was doing those things? I closed my eyes tight when he touched my face again, caressing me.

"Oh, Bebe…" he said, "why couldn't you let me have her? Just once. That's all I wanted, but now it's come to this…" I felt the sharp point of his blade in my stomach. I panicked and tried to curl up again, but a hard bash in the side stopped me. I heard him scoff. He stood and kicked me a few more times. His shoes were so harsh. I hadn't taken a beating like that in my whole life.

I began to cough again. It hurt a lot, and I could taste blood. The duct tape prevented me from spitting it out, so I was forced to swallow it. It made me feel sick.

He barked a laugh and kneeled before me again. "God, how I hate you. You deserve to suffer," he said. I felt a sudden sharp pain in my chest. I stopped breathing momentarily from the sheer shock it instilled. I couldn't see it, but I knew he'd stabbed me.

I tried to scream, but couldn't. Tears started to well in my eyes. "Don't cry, Bebe. I'll be sure not to kill you yet," he said. His voice was so purely sadistic. I was terrified. He was crazy! I was going to die! The knife was removed from my chest and I started to shake violently.

After that, he left me. He left me alone in that awful place. It was so dark, and I was so scared. I was losing blood, and I could feel myself fading from consciousness. It felt like I laid there for days. The silence was killing me. I could no longer feel my arms. I tried to sit up again, but couldn't. My body was too weak from the blood loss.

Just when I'd thought I'd go mad from the silence, I heard his footsteps again. I began to shake even harder than before.

"Did you miss me?" he asked. "Sorry to leave you so lonely, but I had to go take care of something. Wendy misses you and sends her regards. She's so worried; she has no idea where you are. Shouldn't you tell her when you're going to ditch on your plans? You're such a bitch."

I wanted to scream and beat the shit out of that guy. How dare him! The tears started to stream down my face again. He leaned and wiped his thumb across my cheek, taking the tears with it. I wanted so badly to bite his hand, but I could not. It only made me cry harder. "I thought I told you not to cry? Maybe I should punish you," he said.

I felt the point of his blade in my stomach again. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to prepare myself. "I had so wanted to enjoy your pain… but you're forcing my hand. I'm going to have to kill you now."

He pushed the metal into me slowly. It was the worst pain I'd ever felt. It felt like he'd stabbed straight through to my back. It only got worse. As soon as the blade hit its hilt, he began to drag it upward. He sawed agonizingly until he reached my chest again. The pain was so unbearable. I was shaking so badly. My body went into shock.

He leaned his face close to mine and spoke his final words. "Goodbye, Bebe." I strained my eyes as they started to blur. My eyes grew wide with surprise as I realized who he was.

He removed the knife, and then began to stab me repeatedly in the chest. It was jagged and harsh and quick and desperate. Everything went fuzzy, and then black.

_I'm so sorry, Stan…_

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><p><strong>Sooooooooo, I've never written this kind of story before. I tried to keep it as short as possible and within the guidelines. I'm sorry if it's horrible. :**

**This was for SouthParkFan8's Halloween contest.**


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